Difference between revisions of "2921/WMAT B1 Bloody Crow vs Fiery Pokemon"

Latest revision as of 16:46, 9 September 2015

Annalise (841) has posed:
Only the most hardy folk must have thrived in a barren landscape like Yunzabit. High, chill winds whistle among the crumbling remnants of that gone-away society, creating a haunting melody ill-suited to something as high-spirited as the World Martial Arts Tournament.

The Bloody Crow isn't a high-spirited man himself. In fact, he looks almost like he belongs in this place. The feathers of his cloak ruffle in the forlorn air. The clouded sky dulls any shine to be found on his mask and blade. He all but melts into the cold black background, his figure seemingly made of the same shadow and stone comprising the landscape.

He awaits Mortimer's arrival in plain sight. His index finger bends to repeatedly drag its tip along the hilt of his sword in a restless motion.

Mortimer Balman has posed:
     The perfect location for an epic battle between two recalcitrant and hard-bitten foes. A silhouette appears in the distance, huge and foreboding. It leaps across the plateaus and cliffs of the Heights, growing ever larger until it can finally be clearly seen. The ground shakes when a monstrously huge wolf, of such impossible size that it could constitute a siege weapon, lands upon the mesa that the Bloody Crow waits upon. It rears its head back and lets out a long, low howl that echoes for miles.

     Sitting on the beast's back is Mortimer, carrying a well polished and sharpened guisarme of peculiar shape and alien origin, wearing a tattered and worn camo-patterned mantle that billows and flows like the ragged standard of some forgotten nation in the neverending winds. He wears a strange uniform underneath it, similar to his 'civilian' cammies but more properly martial in fabrication and design. The lance is launched high into the air, cutting through the wind with a faint whistle, landing into the earth between the rider and the Crow. An ornate, perhaps ceremonial, knife hangs from a small length of rope on the end of the weapon. It is made of iron, has a vaguely Assyrian design to it, and is stained with what looks like very old blood.

     When the cameras pan back over to Mortimer, he has slipped off of his wolf and onto the ground, drawing a nearly two foot long combat knife whose back edge is laced with ugly looking barbs, and is moving to a point where he is equally as far from the guisarme as the Bloody Crow is. The wolf hops down out of their battlefield, and Mortimer raises his knife to the Crow.

     A salute of some sort, perhaps.

Ysabel Thibault (581) has posed:
    Ysabel has, for the purposes of not freezing her butt off in this fight, temporarily requesitioned a set of warm, fuzzy Lagombi armor (http://goo.gl/QEiM8f), and she currently sits in the announcer's booth with a steaming cup of chocolate-flavored liquid...and are those chopped peppers floating in it? That must be what provides the lasting heat to Wyverian hot drinks.

    Ysabel, looking as grumpy as ever, sits huddled in the booth with the cup cradled in her mittens, sipping her drink and occasionally pausing to munch on the hot peppers inside. "So we're here up in the Yunzabit Heights, where the current forecast is 'colder than a Blangonga's butt'. With that said, though, I don't think our fighters tonight care. Bloody Crow's looking pretty imposing himself, and-"

    A pause, and a narrow-eyed frown. "...good, Mort's not using the giant wolf thing that he just rode into battle. I'd call bullshit on that, but I guess Crow could handle it if he needed to. Looks like this is gonna be a blade fight too; Crow's got a thin sword of some kind, and Mort's got a combat knife. Not really what I'd go for myself, but I'm not the one fighting, and neither of these guys are big enough to skin."

Annalise (841) has posed:
The Crow lifts his head at Mortimer's arrival. The way his shoulders visibly sag suggests relief. He's relieved his opponent has at last appeared. He's relieved to no longer be waiting.

He flicks his sword into a beckoning gesture. "Let us begin...Balman."

The Bloody Crow slides his left foot forward, and brings his weapon of choice up into a readied, one-handed grip.

Mortimer Balman has posed:
     A brief roll of his own shoulders, stretching out the muscles and joints, and Mortimer nods. "Aye. Let Victini's eyes be on us both!" He sucks in a deep breath of air, like he usually does before expelling a big gout of flames.. But instead of the usual stream of fire, it's merely a big ball. An oversized puff, flying at the Bloody Crow.

     This is a feint. Mortimer is rapidly following after the ball, not expecting it to do much to his opponent, but rather providing a momentary distraction as his fist reaches /through/ the flames, seeming to catch fire itself as it breaks through, and aiming to fly dead on into the Crow's face!

Ysabel Thibault (581) has posed:
    Ysabel takes a slow sip of her drink as the fighters greet each other and get ready. "Aaand here we go. Mort's starting out with a fire attack, it looks like; Crow's armor looks a little flammable, so this might be - OH. Oh, no, he's punching /through/ the fireball to Crow's face. Nice powerup attack there." Siiiip. "At least Crow's not going to have to worry about getting cold in this fight."

Annalise (841) has posed:
"Fire..." There's a bright orange flash along the length of the Bloody Crow's sword as he rushes toward the oncoming fireball. The blade dips low to the left, its sharp tip nearly kissing the ground at the Crow's every hurried step. Why doesn't he run from the fireball? Why run toward it? Is he mad, or does he recognize the feint? "Fire is something only BEASTS should fear!"

The Bloody Crow's voice is hollowed by the close fit of his consuming mask. There isn't a bit of his face visible through his cold metal veil. If it could be seen, Mortimer would glimpse narrowed eyes, and an eager smirk.

The Crow jukes to the right at the last second. Mortimer's fist clips the man's shoulder and crisps the edges of a few black feathers, but doesn't throw him from his path. His sword slices a horizontal stroke along Mortimer's shins just before the Crow vanishes in a puff of fog.

The Crow appears no more than two feet from where he disappeared, his blade now pointed up and right as if completing the stroke in that unseen moment.

Mortimer Balman has posed:
     Damn, age must really be catching up with him. He barely caught the strange armored human(?) with that.. Ah?! He's /magical/, too?! Not much time to react. But despite his age, he's still fast and a lot more agile than you might think for someone his size. His torso twists to what looks like a surely painful degree with his knife-arm swinging down hard to catch the sword. There's a loud clang and a screech of metal against metal, with sparks flying between the two blades. And blood running down Mortimer's leg, as the Crow's weapon stops in its track. The cut isn't very deep- it's done more damage to surface fat than to muscle or sinew. But it's bleeding pretty well.

     Muscles strain as Mortimer tries to push the blade away with his own, bringing it up higher and allowing his body to untwist. A hard push and then his whole body spins, a boot wrapped in steel coming around on one pass and a further spin to bring the knife around to slice at the knightly man's swordarm with that oversized razor. He doesn't have a witty retort for the fire statement. Coming up with them on the fly is hard.

Ysabel Thibault (581) has posed:
    "...wow." Ysabel's head tilts slightly, the rabbit ears of her armor flopping to the side. "Crow's got some /guts/, I'll give him that. He just runs right toward the fireball and the shifts away at the last second. How the hell does he even /see/ through that helmet, anyway? Well, however he does it, he's not getting more than a graze on the shoulder from that punch, and his sword's coming in for Mort's shins - what the hell was that?!"

    Ysabel suddenly sits up, nearly spilling her drink. "He just vanished - and there he is again! What is this teleportation bullshit?! I can't comment if I can't /see/! Fff - oh, whatever," she grumbles, flopping back into her seat. "Mort's got it taken care of; that knife of his managed to keep the sword from de-legging him, so now he's returning the favor with a slash right to Crow's arm. Trying to disarm him, I guess. No pun intended."

Annalise (841) has posed:
"Uhnf!"

The hard impact of Mortimer's boot staggers The Bloody Crow, whose grunt is followed by a quick, sharp hiss as the knife follows through to cut a shallow gash across the Crow's defensive forearm. That knife has no trouble penetrating the Crow's garments; if he's wearing any armor at all, it's not any heavier than canvas.

Light garments can be beneficial in some ways. If not very protective, at least the Crow's uniform enables swift movements and agility. Another quickstep carries the Crow further to Mortimer's right. His sword flicks left in a blurring feint, while his other hand produces from his hip a rather elaborate firearm. At this range, the double PA-PANG of two emptying barrels is a deafening crack, and the resulting bullet spray is hard to avoid.

But that's not even the most dangerous thing. Behind the bullets, the Crow's sword returns, thrusting forth in a wicked jab.

"One does not need eyes to see!" he calls out. Answering Ysabel, or warning Mortimer?

Mortimer Balman has posed:
     Fast. Is this man even human? No. Something else, maybe. Not much time to think about it. The Crow is fast, Mort barely has enough time to realize how little armor the man is wearing. He had thought him more heavily protected. That means being more careful with his bl-GUN.

     Guns hurt. Mort falls to the ground as fast as he can to avoid being shot. But the pellets still find some of their marks, two of them burying themselves into his scalp and leaving ugly marks that bleed- but only briefly. His fiery mane quickly cauterizes the wounds naturally, keeping them from bleeding further. "Made the classic blunder, lad, ought not to have got me in the head!" Self-deprecating humor, a time honored tradition of his homeland. And perhaps, a warning to the Crow as well.

     Rolling along the ground, Mortimer springs back up onto his feet, launching his feet outwards at the Bloody Crow's chest in what should, if they can actually get a solid connection, promise to be a very hard mule kick. "A pity yah can't see us that well, son, yer missin' out on the fine show we're givin' the folks at home!" Connect or miss, he'll throw his hands to the ground to flip himself back upright, leaving the Crow with a brief window where Mortimer will have his back turned to the man.

Ysabel Thibault (581) has posed:
    Ysabel's drink is set down just long enough for her to cup her mitts around her mouth and shout, "I NEED EYES TO SEE, JERK!" A huff, and then she's got her drink in her paws again. "...anyway, yeah, Mort got a pretty good hit in there with that knife. Crow just seems to be rolling right through it, though, as he's trying to use agility over brute strength - and he's got a /gun/, holy shit! Two shots from almost point-blank range, and his sword's coming in too! Ah, damn, but Mort's quick enough to dodge by getting flat on the ground. Close one there. He's countering with a hard kick from the ground, too, I guess to get his footing back and knock Crow on his ass. We'll see if he can keep up with this guy, though."

Annalise (841) has posed:
Jerk?

Uppity woman.

The Crow looks toward the nearest source of Ysabel's voice. Uppity indeed, but he best not call her on it.

Mortimer's KICK is a solid and brutal reminder to pay attention to the fight at hand -- not the commentary! The Bloody Crow doubles over with a loud grunt, and reels back winded, almost falling in his stumbling, uncontrolled retreat.

Before Mortimer can turn around, the Crow recovers, and proves his namesake.

Though he normally fights with his weapon poisoned, in this tournament, such a poison would be inappropriate; what isn't inappropriate is the act of strengthening his weapon, however. After holstering his gun, the Crow runs his blood-smeared forearm across his own sword. The blade flares with a roiling red aura as he takes into a two-handed grip.

Mortimer must have turned by then. He'll turn to face The Bloody Crow's empowered sword descending from above in a wicked arc.

Mortimer Balman has posed:
     Enough time to turn around. And.. Oh. Oh dear. No time to dodge or even prepare himself for the impact. The blade slices deep, and HARD, across Mortimer's chest, forcing him backward from the sheer power of it- and the bloody red aura. "Graaaagh!" Blood sprays across the green grass, which starts to /burn/ and cause smoke to rise up- though it quickly blows away in the wind. Mort starts backpedaling quickly, giving himself a moment at least to catch himself and his breath. That was a good hit. A good strike. "Ergh.. Yer.. Yer /fast/, human.. Credit to yah, I'll not make that mistake twice.." Humans are the worst opponent to fight. They're so /unpredictable/.

     The blood courses down his chest and stomach as he sucks in a swift breath, and he leaps forward in a lightning fast charge. The knife is flipped around, the barbed side now being used for the cutting edge. The Crow will need to be quick on his feet indeed to avoid his flesh being not only cut but /shredded/ by the blade. It's still just a blade, though. It's not on fire or got any kind of fancy magical aura. Just good old fashioned advanced knife designs to inflict as much physical damage as possible.

Ysabel Thibault (581) has posed:
    "And Crow just gets booted right in the gut by that, ow. Looks like he's gonna need a second to recov-oh." Ysabel pauses, then sips a bit at her drink. "Yeah, no, he's /already/ recovered. And he's...coated his sword in some of his own blood, and it looks like it's gone /superpowered/ now. He's chopping right down on Mort - aaaand that hit hard. Ouch. Looks like Mort's blood is burning the grass down there. You could probably make some pretty good fire-elemented weaponry out of him."

    Ysabel is briefly interrupted by a tournament official, after which she gives a hefty sigh. "...okay, so I've just been told that we shouldn't talk about making equipment out of the competitors during the tournament. Whatever. Anyway, Mort's getting up out of there again, and he's trying to go in to give Crow some pretty vicious cuts. Looks like it's serrated, too; that's gonna cause some serious laceration if Crow's not quick."

Annalise (841) has posed:
The Bloody Crow's weapon drinks Mortimer's blood. There is nothing gained by it -- the Crow himself isn't strengthened or granted more endurance -- but the weapon itself seems to burn with a hunger for more.

The next blood to come isn't the Crow's. "HAAARGH!" Quick on his feet, yes, but not quick enough in his committed state to evade the sudden serrations tearing his flesh to ribbons. The Crow's sword wobbles in the air as his wounded arm crumples beneath a crimson spray. Thick red sheets of blood flow down the Crow's arm from bicep to wrist, only to soak into a pool inside his glove.

"Hah! Haaah -- how bold of you!"

The Bloody Crow steps away into another concealing fog. Three strides are taken unseen. He reappears with his pistol letting loose another spray of bullets as at last he gives up and lets his sword fall back into a one-handed grip.

Mortimer Balman has posed:
     Fog. Disappeared again. Mortimer's ears perk up, twitching and moving around like tiny radar dishes. Listening. Crouch low to the ground. Blood still pouring down from his cut. Bleeding less now, since the sword seemed to drink it. Magical sword. A queer sort of blade that drinks blood. No matter. He'll just need to try and let it not cut him so hard. Can do that.

     There. Crow's reappeared. He can feel it. His leg muscles bulge out and strain against the fabric, and he leaps high into the air, the bullets whizzing past and striking only the air. "Gonna need some better tricks than that, boy!" Comes his voice from high above, and he lands not far from where the Crow is now standing and, no doubt, getting into a new position to attack.

     The old soldier flips himself forward, going head over heels twice and bringing his knife down to stab the Bloody Crow right in his swordarm's shoulder with that vicious blade. Ideally, to render the sword-using arm useless, and force the man to rely on different tactics.

Ysabel Thibault (581) has posed:
    Ysabel visibly winces as the Crow is cut repeatedly. "Oooh, that one's going to hurt. Crow's got some really bad gashes there, enough that he can't keep hold of his sword with both hands. Might be a useless arm there, now. Looks like Crow's going more defensive now, poofing into fog - and there he is again, popping out with his gun! Shit, but Mort's got some ears on him; doesn't look like those shots even hit him. He's jumping up and shoving that knife down into Crow's shoulder, and it looks like he's trying to tear up that sword arm even more. Nasty tactics, but pretty reasonable given the situation."

Annalise (841) has posed:
The churning red aura vanishes from the Crow's sword.

Mortimer -- evades the bullets?! Seems the 'old man' has some speed to him after all! Scoffing, the Crow starts to quickstep left, already flipping his pistol back into its holster --

Mortimer comes crashing down. Too late, the Crow lifts his weapon to try and deflect the attack. Sparks fire out from the scraping impact. Though the deflection slows Mortimer's attack, a full parry isn't managed. The blade still drive deep into the Crow's shoulder. Deep enough to provoke another pained shout. Deep enough to make the Crow retreat into a low crouch.

He takes a few ragged panting breaths before abruptly sweeping his sword straight up into an uppercut-like motion aimed at Mortimer's own arm. It's a wild strike, and not very elegant.

Mortimer Balman has posed:
     Mort could have probably evaded that wild uppercut. Except for one problem- Physics. They /exist/. The force of him coming down to stab the man in the arm means that force is still going down to the ground. Ergo, when it drives the Crow to the ground, Mortimer follows with it. Furthermore, when the Crow lifts his sword up to try and uppercut Mort with it, Mort doesn't really have the needed force to change his own direction. The wild swing cuts deep under his arm, hitting numerous sensitive tissues and tendons that will, unfortunately, render that arm useless for the remainder of the fight. Annoying, but he can deal with that. He has many tricks up his sleeves.

     However, he does not try to pull back after being cut. Instead he pushes forward, crowding closer into the blind knight, roaring as loudly as he can- which is pretty damned loud, Mort was trained how to scream by the best- a mixture of pain and rage. His head draws back..

     And he brings it forward. To headbutt the knight with his highly trained skull and, hopefully, make him flinch. Perhaps the most devious of all Pokemon techniques!

Ysabel Thibault (581) has posed:
    "Mort's got another good shot in there. Crow tried parrying, but it wasn't quite good enough; the guy's got some endurance, but it looks like even he has some limits - ooh, shit, he's cutting right up into Mort's arm to counter!" Ysabel's leaning a little forward now after a sip from her hot drink. "/That's/ sure a deep cut. Looks like Mort's gonna have a hard time using that arm right now. He's not trying to fall back and recover, though, instead just shouting like a starving Deviljho and - oh, a headbutt /right/ to Crow's helmeted face! This seems like a terrible idea to me, but I guess Mort's pretty confident in the thickness of his skull."

Annalise (841) has posed:
The mask of Cainhurst is as decorous as it is dense, it turns out. It might look like a light piece of fancy tinfoil, but it's actually quite an effective piece of armor, as Mortimer finds out. Sure, the Crow falters and falls back onto his rear, flinching as his bell is audibly rung, but Mortimer may have very well gotten the worst end of it...

The Bloody Crow starts to scramble backwards, aiming to find his feet before Mortimer recovers. Blood peppers the ground with gleaming droplets wherever he goes.

Mortimer Balman has posed:
     Mortimer's eyes almost roll around independently of each other in their sockets. Okay. No more of that. His entire FACE was bleeding now. Nose broken, several teeth scattered on the ground, holding his head with his still good arm, trying to wipe the blood from his eyes. All things damned and deadly, that HURT.

     Fortunately, the Bloody Crow is on his ass long enough for Mortimer to stumble backwards and, though seeing double as he is most definitvely getting punch drunk from that last blow- and most likely a solid concussion to boot- Mortimer tries to deny the Crow an opportunity to recover.. And begins sucking in air.

     The damaged arm hanging limply by his side, bleeding all over Hell and creation, and eyes struggling to maintain focus, Mortimer decides that the best course of action.. Is to simply burn both of his targets at once. He'd consider trying to stab the knight with something, but the bastard still has his knife! Therefore, flames. Stomach distending slightly from all the air he's sucked in, he lurches forward slightly and begins expelling a horrendously hot stream of bright red flames out to try and coat the Bloody Crow in fire. Perhaps remind him that men too, are beasts, and thus should fear it.

Ysabel Thibault (581) has posed:
    Ysabel is suddenly leaning back after that resonating /clang/. "...ouch. Yep, metal: 1, skull: 0. Now I'm just wondering even more how Crow sees through that thing, because it looks like Mort's done more damage to /himself/ with that headbutt of his. They're both taking a second to recover, but...ah, shit, that's a tell for an attack if I've ever seen one. Mort's just going straight to the monster basics and breathing a stream of fire right at the Crow, and if those really are feathers on Crow's uniform, he's gonna get some rough burning in a second. I sure wouldn't tank that if I had the choice."

Annalise (841) has posed:
The Bloody Crow burns.

His feathered cloak isn't as flammable as it should be -- it actually offers some protection as the Crow writhes beneath its flaming folds -- but even if he doesn't catch fire all over, he's given serious insight into the purifying nature of fire. He feels it scorching his lungs. He feels the heat tightening his skin and creating blisters that pop and ooze. His weapon burns, too, smoke and steam rising from its surface as the fire reduces at last to embers. Sparks drift from his cloak. Smoke stings the air. There is no telling what it must feel like beneath that metal mask.

The Bloody Crow's screaming doesn't stop until well after the fire dissipates.

In the blinding fury that follows, his arm seems to forget its grievous gashes. His hands ignore their blisters. The Bloody Crow takes his sword into a two-handed grip again, quickly smears it in his own blood despite the additional burn he gives himself, and lunges forward at Mortimer with a shouted warcry.

The smoke scent still hangs in the air even as he briefly disappears from sight.

His short teleport ends with his sword thrusting forward into what the Crow anticipates could be a disabling strike.

Mortimer Balman has posed:
     Just need another moment. Just need to get his head cleared. His vision starts to refocus, just in time to see the Bloody Crow /vanish/. "Gettin' real damned tired of that trick, boy!" Comes Mortimer's furious taunt. He was /ready/ for that this time, though. And he twisted his body hard to catch the sword.. With his already useless arm.

     A horrid sound of bone making a sickening *SCRUNCH* echoes loudly as the sword pierces straight through the bone. Mortimer growls as he feels the blade drinking his blood. "Still thirsty?! I've just the thing to quench yer thirst!" His throat starts to bulge again. This time it isn't fire, though. Well, it's still murderously, burning, roiling hot. But it's not /fire/.

     It's the contents of his stomach, a lava-like bile that he tries to vomit up onto the Crow since the man cannot really move too far away with his sword in Mort's arm like that.. It's quite the hot stuff, to say the least.

Ysabel Thibault (581) has posed:
    Ysabel finds herself uncomfortably quiet until the Bloody Crow stops screaming in agony, at which point she finally clears her throat to speak. "...yeah. That one hurt Crow pretty bad. Sounds like the fire's burning in his soul too, though, because he's just going /right/ at Mort with ridiculous fury. There goes his sword on his own wound again, and /again/ he's poofing out of view, jumping right back to stab Mort right in the arm! Damn, that's a deep stab. So deep that...ugh." The huntress makes a rather sickened face. "...that Mort's apparently just barfing right on him. Looks like some kinda magma, so that's still pretty horrible, but it's also super gross, like a Pariapuria that ate too much. I bet Crow's gonna be sick of fire after all this is over, but at least Mort's not sending out his last meal with it."

Annalise (841) has posed:
"Hrrraaah...THAT'S ENOUGH!"

The magma spill coats The Bloody Crow in a sticky, searing mess no amount of stop-drop-roll will contain. He throws off his cape to try and escape the burn. It's not enough! Agony blazes along every nerve, and the Crow roars his pain.

"I...YIELD!" he spits at last. "Keep your fire -- "

Gasping, the Bloody Crow reaches for his belt pouch. He pulls out a sharp-tipped vial, and jabs the needle into his own thigh. Its bright red contents pump into his body, and some of his visible burns and gashes begin to close right away.

Of course, even healing, his endurance is pushed past its limits. "Congratulations. A well-fought duel. A better test of my skill than I thought to find. You shall advance beyond me."

Mortimer Balman has posed:
     Mortimer almost doesn't hear that. He's in a HELL of a lot of pain. Were it not for the Crow practically /screaming/ that he yielded, Mort would have probably kept attacking. He was already drawing in breath for another gout of flaming breath.. But instead this is expressed as his mane flaring up wildly for a few brief moments. "Eh.. Haahh.." His voice is /extremely/ coarse, like doing that last bit hurt his throat almost as much as it hurt the blind knight. Which probably explains why he sounds like somebody shoved a bottlebrush down his throat most of the time /normally/.

     "Alright.. I accept.. ...Yer sword, young fella..." twisting his broken arm around, Mortimer slowly pulls the blade out. Grimacing, hissing flames, and growling the whole time. His good arm and hand holds it out. The pain is BLINDINGLY intense, but he's got enough steam in him he can still stand, albeit shakily. "Don't pull my knife outta yer shoulder.. The barbs'll ruin yer muscles permanent-like. Let a doc do that.. Good fightin', man. Good fightin'. Groudan tradition demands that I insist on yah joinin' me fer a drink, yah fought damned well."

Ysabel Thibault (581) has posed:
    Ysabel is given pause for a moment when the Bloody Crow shouts out. "...well. I guess that's it. Crow's had enough of the heat - and grossness - and is now calling to yield. I dunno what he's pulling out there, but...I guess he's got some recovery of his own somehow. At least that takes care of it."

    The huntress finished chugging down the rest of her drink, then tosses the glass aside to shatter against the ground. "And looks like Mort's inviting Crow out for drinks. I guess that's it, ladies and gentlemen. Crow yields, and Mort's continuing ahead to the next round of the WMAT. Let's see if his knifing and barfing legacy pushes him on to victory. Good work to both of our fighters tonight, and I'm gonna go somewhere that's not freezing my ass off."

    With that, Ysabel hops up and struts off, no doubt taking the fastest route out of Yunzabit.